Happy Hour (Makes My Clothes Fall Off)
by sandcastlemaker
Summary: It's 2013. Stanley Walker is dead. Karen Walker is hilarious, but a mess. Grace Adler is beautiful, if goofy and aloof. Jack McFarland is busy chasing his dream of becoming the world's most renowned Paper Mache Master. Will Truman is still lawyerly and handsome. Prequel to "I Like Mine Shaken, Not Stirred" in "The Goose Gets You Loose" series.
1. MANIC MONDAYS

SHOUT OUT to "graceadlr" for commenting on the last installment; you're the one who made me want to continue writing. Sorry it's just a prequel for now, but I'll continue where I left off in the last story soon. Fair warning - this will be more detailed and story oriented than the other one, but I'm not convinced yet that it needs to be a super long story. I'll leave that decision up to you guys.

* * *

chapter: Manic Mondays

song: **YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME** \- Megan Mullally ( _Fame Movie Soundtrack_ )

liquor: **Patron Platinum**

"Here's to the North, and here's to the South. If you can't do it with a dick, you better do it with your mouth!"

* * *

She stood behind the drawing table, leaning over an expansive sketch pad while she squinted her eyes in contemplation. Fiery tendrils of hair snaked over feminine shoulders and the curve of her long back. As the early evening sun climbed in through the window, it caught ahold of the redhead's spiraling locks and seemingly set the air around her head ablaze. The beauty that radiated from the slender woman with the loose black slacks and silk champagne blouse was enough to make Karen Walker's head spin a little.

 _Please just let it be 5pm so I can leave work and head to the bar. I can't be in the same room as her anymore today._

The socialite ran a delicate hand up the lavender cashmere that clung tightly to her frame, over her breast and to the neckline where she looped a well manicured finger beneath her necklace and pulled it ever so slightly away from her body. She swallowed hard; the string of diamonds wasn't what caused the choking sensation inside her throat, nor was her sweater the cause of the overwhelming feeling of heat as it spread throughout her chest.

The beautiful woman across the office chose that moment to twist her head towards her assistant. The brunette's discomfort was immediately obvious to her. Karen fumbled slightly under the inquisitive gaze as those big doe-eyes made contact with hers. Her entire body hitched under the scrutiny, and she dropped her necklace before she swallowed hard again.

"Karen," the woman began, curious, "are you alright?"

Caught off-guard, Karen threw her hands down to her desk and awkwardly shuffled a few papers around as if she had been in the middle of, wait, what did these people call it? It started with an "f", and she knew it wasn't "fucking." Oh, what was that peasant word again? Well, whatever it was, she supposed she wasn't very convincing at it.

"What? Oh yes, of course, Grace, I'm just in the middle of f... fiiii? Uh, file..." she trailed off, suddenly finding the ceiling very interesting.

"Filing! Karen, it's called filing."

They glared at each other.

"Well I'm not going to get any of this so called quote-un-quote _filing_ done if you keep interrupting me. Besides, _filing_ is what Technician does to my nails once a week. I don't see how you can do the same thing with _paper_ , anyway."

"Sometimes I don't - ok stop beating around the bush. You were staring at me, and I want to know why." The redhead ran an exasperated hand through her hair.

"Ha! I'll show you what _'beating around the bush'_ really means," Karen laughed heartily at her joke and then slumped back into her chair, complete amusement washed over her pale and stunning features.

"KAREN! Tell me why you were staring! I'm worried I have mustard on my face or something."

The brunette huffed.

"Oh fine, alright honey, I was just waiting for you to sprout some sort of hunchback and start singing _'The Bells of Notre Dame'_ from the way you've been leaning over that table of yours."

Grace threw her blue sketching pencil down and immediately straightened her back.

"You know what, Karen? It's not my fault that Chef mistook your vodka flask for Mason's thermos this morning and sent you to work with hot chocolate instead."

She glared at her indignant assistant and waited for the no-doubt inappropriate reply.

"Well it wouldn't have been such an issue if Chef had been mixing that little porker's hot chocolate with half Bailey's like I told him to!"

She slammed her hand on her desk for emphases before she rolled her eyes and looked away from Grace. Of course the thermos/flask mix-up only partly contributed to her irritation today. The majority of her frustration came from having to **soberly** deal with the redhead's shirt that was conveniently unbuttoned one button too low, and how the silk lay so smoothly over her chest. The thin fabric never revealed anything, but didn't quite hide the fact that Grace wasn't wearing a bra either, and it was driving Karen wild.

"Kids in college don't need thermoses, anyway!"

"You know, I'm working hard over here, and you're hardly working. I do my best to provide work for us, and you never contribute! I feel like I need a drink even more than you do."

Karen jumped and turned her head towards her boss. Her dark, hazel eyes softened immediately and her voice rose several octaves.

"Why Gracie, I never thought of it that way before. You _do_ work so hard for us, and provide our little family with such a good life. Oh honey I forgive you. You're a great husband." She stood up and stretched her arms out wide, as if she expected Grace to come running to her to scoop her up in a big hug.

"Ohhh-Hooo, wait a minute!"

The red head threw her hand up in the air.

"Karen I didn't say I worked hard to provide for _us_ , I said provide _work_ for us. Last time I checked I am not your husband, and second, I don't accept your forgiveness; I never apologized for anything because I didn't do anything wrong."

The smoldering brunette rolled her eyes and sat down hard, her breasts bouncing slightly as she landed.

"Tell that to your offensive blouse," she muttered to herself, hoping Grace would react.

"I **heard** that! There's nothing wrong with Anne Taylor."

"The only thing wrong with Anne Taylor is that she's still designing clothes."

"If I could afford Alexander McQueen, I would be wearing it."

The redhead emphasized her point by sticking her tongue out at the socialite before she leaned back down and grabbed her discarded pencil. She drew two more lines on her pad before glancing at Karen's miserable face.

"Alright look, let's just stop here for the day. Why don't we agree to get here early tomorrow and start over again. We can just forget about today, go out and get a drink at the bar down the street."

"Honey if you're drinking with me I have a feeling you won't be going anywhere early tomorrow."

Grace snorted as she picked up her brown leather purse, "what does _that_ mean, exactly?"

Karen's hand paused over her burgundy Balenciaga bag. The image of Grace on her back begging for the brunette's hands on her body just wouldn't leave her mind.

"Oh, uh, nothing, Grace. I just meant that I could out drink you, which is tried and true, and that you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a week."

DEVIL! There she went again, imagining Grace in her bed. She seriously hoped her boss hadn't suddenly developed the ability to read minds.

The redhead simmered slightly under her blazing hair.

"You're on."

"Honey, I'm not **on** _anything_ today, I can promise you that. Unless you count the two little blue pills I found in the floorboards this morning," she deadpanned.

Grace rolled her eyes, exasperated, "no, Karen, I mean, you're on!"

"Oh, I'm allllways on, Grace."

She shook her head on smacked her forehead. Karen was ridiculous.

"Fine, honey! I'll play your stupid game. I'm on what?"

They reached the bottom of the stair well and Grace held the front door open for Karen, which never failed to make the billionaire swoon ever so slightly.

"A drinking challenge. We're going to Monday Happy Hour at the bar of **my** choice so that way I know you don't cheat by having your Smitty-Of-The-Day over pour all my drinks, and we're going to have a full on drinking contest."

As they stepped out into the late September evening, Karen couldn't help but hold back her violent chuckles.

"Ha, hahaha, hahahahaha, Grace! You are just too funny tonight. We've _done_ this before, and you _always_ lose."

When she saw the sincere look in her boss's greenish-amber eyes, she paused and smirked. 'Drunk!Grace' was her all-time favorite, and she couldn't help but jump at any chance to get the woman to loosen up.

"Oh alright, Grace. I'll take you up on your pathetic attempt to get me wasted and take advantage of me again. Though if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask."

The redhead's eyes flew open wide and she threw her hand to her gaping mouth.

"What?! No! Karen, that's not what I was trying to do at all - "

Karen immediately laughed and threw herself into Grace for a clumsy embrace.

"Honey! Your. Face. Is. _Hilaaaarious_ right now! Close your mouth before people think you're having a stroke; let's go. It's time to get wasted, and I've been sober all day so you don't even get the advantage of a head start. You poor commoner. I'm gonna wipe the floor with your drunk ass."

* * *

They were only four shots and a couple drinks in and Grace was giggling at absolutely nothing. Karen still felt stone-cold sober, and her amusement at her friend's hysterical laughter only grew when the redhead asked for another round.

"Listen Grace, let me get this round," she said as she turned towards to the bartender. "Hey! You! Two chilled shots of Patron Platinum, and skip the training wheels."

She saw the shrewd eye roll from the bartender. "First off, 'hey you' won't get you anywhere, and just so you know it's $50 _per shot_ for Platinum."

Karen straightened up and haughtily eyed the bartender down her slender nose. She unbottoned her black Fendi jacket and reached into her sweater to pull ten $100 bills from her cleavage. Grace's eyes zeroed in on Karen's chest in surprise.

"Will this get me somewhere?"

The bartender balked.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Grace, this is why I don't like going to shady-ass bars in the East Village with different daily slogans like 'Manic Mondays'. Their toothless staff always looks like they stepped off the cover of 'Fashion For Hippies and the Homeless'."

She turned to look at the redhead and saw the woman's eyes were still blatantly on her chest.

"Now you're the one who's staring, honey. They're perfect, am I right?"

"Hey Karen," she started, not quite slurring, but clearly feeling the effects of the tequila, "how did you pull all that out of your boobs? And do you have anything else in there that I should be aware of?"

Karen giggled and grabbed her breasts, "just a pair of smoking guns, baby!"

Grace rolled her eyes and put her head on the bar. She really shouldn't have challenged Karen to a drinking game, but she had wanted to spend some extra time with the woman that didn't include being in the office.

"Aww," Karen smiled and placed her hand on Grace's head. She hesitantly stroked her fingers through the woman's long, wavy hair, "still want to get to work early tomorrow, Gracie?"

The woman with her face rooted to the splintered wood merely groaned in response. The bartender sat two shots on the bar, and Karen grinned.

"I'll take the whole bill, Smitty," she said, picking up a shot in each hand and swallowed both shots at the same time as if the liquid was nothing more than water, "I've got to get my girl home."

The man placed the check in front of Karen.

"You two make a beautiful couple," the snotty bartender brown-nosed. Karen knew he was only thinking of the money in her wallet, but she couldn't help but feel the rise of feral butterflies in her stomach at the suggestion, and the warmth that blossomed over her chest at the idea of her and Grace being a real, legitimate couple.

"Yeah, she's something special, alright. Ok come on, Train-Wreck," she poked Grace in the ribs so hard that the woman startled and almost fell off her barstool, "it's time to get your tequila breath to bed."

Grace wrapped her arms around Karen's neck as she used the shorter woman for support.

"You can take my tequila breath to bed any time," she grinned, her eyes slightly crossed.

The brunette swatted the woman's hands from around her shoulder. Grace was definitely drunk if she was alluding to sex with Karen.

"Oh no, I'm not carrying you anywhere, Ginger. Stand up straight like the man you are and walk to the limo. I don't want to have to get Rosie in here to chase you with the pitch-fork again, because it takes a lot out of her and I need her at her best tomorrow for the Annual Upper West Side Maids Cage Match."

Karen threw a few bills onto the bar and guided Grace through the door and into the vehicle parked out front waiting for them.

"Grace's place, Driver," Karen demanded, but softened as Grace laid her head down in her lap. She didn't even mind that the redhead's fingers were clenched tightly around her expensive coat.

They took the drive in silence; Grace snoozed in her boozey haze while Karen gently ran her right hand up and down the woman's back and shoulder.

 _How you manage to bring the affectionate side out of me, I'll never know. I paid good money to have those emotions sawed off._

She laughed at the thought, but also sobered slightly in the process. It was a little alarming at how she always seemed to let the redhead in, even when her natural instincts screamed at her to shut down and shut out. Grace was straight, and her attraction for the woman could only end up hurting herself in the end. She sighed and looked down to the sleeping form. She could continue to push her feelings aside in order to remain friends with her, because having Grace as a platonic friend was better than telling her how she felt and losing her entirely. That's what she constantly told herself, anyway.

When the limo rolled to a stop in front of 155 Riverside Drive, Karen felt the woman stir on her lap. She looked down and shook Grace slightly.

"Gracie, sweetheart, we're here."

The redhead sat up and groaned as the world tilted ever so slightly on its axis. She reached for the door but her hand didn't seem to work properly. Her lips turned downwards as she began to pout. Karen rolled her eyes and exited the car on the left side, walked around the back, and opened Grace's door for her.

"Oh hey there, thank you Karen," the redhead grinned goofily, and took the small hand extended in front of her.

"Your highness," Karen mused as she helped the drunk girl out of the car.

They walked together into the lobby, across the floor, and into the elevator. Karen punched the 9th floor button and side-eyed her friend as the doors closed. When the elevator jolted into action, the redhead fell forward and pinned Karen up against the wall. She felt a rush of excitement as their bodies collided, and they held each other close the rest of the ride up; Karen bit her lip hard to keep from reaching forward to smear her perfectly applied MAC Matte in Ruby Woo all over the taller woman's face.

When the elevator dinged, they slowly walked arm-in-arm to 9C. Grace tried to fish her keys out of her purse, but refused to drop hold of Karen's elbow, which made the ordeal quite a process.

"Hey so I know I'm the one who said it, but did you still want to get to work early tomorrow?"

Karen laughed at the woman's absurd question. "Sweetheart, I think that ship has sailed. But I'll tell you what. I promise to be in to work by 10am if you remember to shower before you leave the apartment tomorrow."

Grace turned and leaned heavily against her door, the confusion painted clearly upon her features.

"What? Karen, I always shower before work..."

The brunette laughed and placed a hand on the woman's bicep as she leaned in close in mock sympathy.

"I guess it's just your awful choice in perfume that's so off-putting, then."

She just couldn't help herself. The digs were easy, and it helped her fool herself into ignoring her feelings for her boss.

"I wear Burberry! That's not a bad perfume," the redhead retorted, only mildly annoyed. Karen merely shrugged her shoulders and winked.

There was a pause while they stared at each other, both awkwardly waiting for the other to say something.

"Do you need help getting inside?"

Red locks waved slightly as the woman shook her head. "No. Thank you, though. I'm dizzy, but Will can help me if I need it."

It was the response she expected, but she couldn't help let her face fall.

"Right. Your wife, Wilma."

Grace wrapped two hands around Karen's waist. Her face was mischievous and suddenly very alluring. The brunette could hear a loud ringing in her ears as the woman holding her leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I thought you said I was **your** husband."

Karen's body began to tingle violently and the ringing increased ten fold as she felt soft lips move gently over her ear, ghost over her cheek, and then press hard into her own. It was quick, fleeting, but electric.

"Good night, Karen," she said, as she turned and walked through her door.

The woman still standing in the hall was shocked to say the least. Her hands rose up to touch her lips and cheek which were still sparking from the brief contact.

"Good night, Gracie," she whispered, a large grin painted over her beautiful face. She could even taste the lime from the redhead's tequila shots.

Karen was suddenly really into Manic Mondays at the Burp Castle.


	2. TIPSY TUESDAYS

**Chapter Text**

song: **One Mint Julep** \- Megan Mullally/Stephanie Hunt _(Nancy and Beth)_  
liquor: **Samaroli Demerara Dark Rum 1988**

"Here's to Nuns and Virgins: thanks for fucking nothing!"

It was finally October, and a week had gone by since the exciting yet short-lived kiss after their boozy shenanigans at the Burp Castle on Manic Monday. Karen Walker stood on the roof of her sprawling Park Avenue penthouse as she stared blankly into the abyss of leaves in the park below. The way they sat on their branches had that look that ever so slightly hinted Fall was on the approach. The late evening sun baked low in the sky behind the buildings across the park. Vibrant oranges from the oncoming sunset melted heavily into variant pinks and lavender before shooting out into cerulean and eventual indigo. Coils of light settled into her eyes, pulling the golds and light browns of her irises to the forefront.

She was frustrated with the situation between her and Grace, but quite frankly, not surprised. As long as she had known the woman they had always flirted, but there had never been anything substantial behind their few shared kisses and playful grabs.

She fiddled absent-minded with the 4.5 inch robusto cigar in her hand before she brought it to her painted mouth and puffed. As she slowly blew out another numbing cloud of tobacco from her red lips, she contemplated that Grace wasn't unlike the Gurkha Black Dragon currently wafting smoke between her delicate fingers: sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet, usually hard to get your hands on, but always worth the drag.

As she stared into the setting sun, her phone began to vibrate. She shook herself out of her reverie and slipped her hand inside her light jacket pocket to fish out her phone. Jack was calling. She didn't want to answer; the combination of drugs and alcohol she'd consumed since she arrived home from work had put her in a definite funk, and she just wanted to sit down in one of her roof-top chairs and smoke her nice cigar until it turned cold outside.

*buzz*  
 **Btch did u srsly just hit the FU button on me?!**

Well, judging by his text, Jack wasn't having any of it.

*buzz*  
 **Answer me!**  
*buzz*  
 **KAREN**  
*buzz*  
 **SRSLY answer me. I want to be your dinner date tonight.**  
*buzz*  
 **Look how cute I am!**

An image came through of him in a kimono sitting on his couch.

*buzz*  
 **I don't want to waste my new outfit you're going to buy me later : )**

She opened up her text board to type out a biting reply that she hoped would shut him up.

 _Leave me alone, you makeup wearing Hussy. I'm not in the mood._

She rolled her eyes and shoved her phone back inside her jacket. Talking to Jack was the last thing she wanted right now. She got through three more puffs on her cigar before she felt her phone vibrate again. She huffed and sat up straight, tapped on the 'answer'.

"Jack, what in the Hell do you want? I am _not_ in the mindset to entertain you right now."

Her voice was harsh and grating, but the flamboyant sweetheart on the other end of the line just talked right over her as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Oh come on Kare-bear! I want to see you for realsies. I have some super important life decisions to tell you about, especially since they all include you. Plus, I really want to try out this new place downtown where the drinks are supposed to be really good... and also, the boys are really hot."

The brunette sighed and put her cigar out.

"Fine, Jack. I'll go out with you, but only because you said drinks. Meet me in front of my building in an hour."

She could hear clapping on the other end of the line.

"Yaaay, Karen you're not going to regret it. We're going to have fun!"

She rolled her eyes and hung up on her friend without a reply. After she stared at her phone a little longer, she glanced up in time to see the last of the sun as it slipped below New Jersey and the West Side buildings to cast the entire world in a shadowy pit. She pocketed her phone once more and made her way back into her house, down a flight of stairs, into her room and stopped inside her expansive closet. If she was going down town on a Tuesday, she was going to look fierce.

When Grace walked in the door of her apartment that evening, all she wanted to do was sit down on the couch and eat an entire bag of potato chips. She haphazardly dropped her brown leather purse onto the floor next to her with a heavy sigh and fell onto the cushiony seat. Will wasn't home yet, so she threw her feet up onto the coffee table and slouched down, trying to meld herself into the soft blue fabric. She closed her eyes, but the first thing her mind ran to was last Monday with Karen. That woman did something to her, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. It wasn't what she wanted to think about right then, and luckily she heard the sound of keys sliding into the lock on the door. She quickly threw her feet to the floor, opened her eyes and waited for her roommate and best friend to enter their shared apartment.

A man of average height but above average looks walked in through door. The handsome man sported a navy Armani wool-silk suit and a sincerely charming smile. After all these years, it was still hard for Grace's face to not twitch in admiration of her ex-boyfriend.

"Hi sweetheart, how was your - Grace, why are you slumped down in the couch like that?"

Will set his leather briefcase on the floor before he sat down next to his friend.

"It's not, ugh, I, you know... I just don't wanna talk about it."

The handsome man smiled and started to stand up. Grace immediately reached for his arm and yanked him back down.

"It's just, you know, stress at work," she paused for effect, "and things."

Will suppressed the grin that attempted to form on his lips. He knew all he had to do was to pretend not to care in order to get his long time best friend to spill the beans.

Grace fidgeted in her oversized, green knit sweater and avoided Will's eyes.

"Oh yeah, I hate the 'things', too," he mocked, and his voice couldn't hide the sarcasm.

"Will come on! This is serious."

"Ok well Grace if it's so serious you have to actually talk about it."

She huffed, rolled her eyes, then sat up straighter in her chair to face Will.

"Alright. Have you ever developed like, an attraction to someone you never thought possible? Not that this person isn't stunningly gorgeous, an amazing dresser..."

"Oh wow, stunningly gorgeous _and_ an amazing dresser? Grace I say go for him right now!" Will grinned. He was still teasing Grace, and thankfully didn't notice the small cringe on her face after he said the word " _him_ ".

Of course, how could he know Grace was talking about Karen? She had never done anything to even remotely indicate to him or anyone else that she could ever be more than mildly appreciative of the same sex. He would have no idea that the desire to kiss Karen was churning more and more frequently through her rattled mind. In fact, she was pretty sure she had tried to kiss Karen that Monday either at the bar or after the bar. Or was it on the bar? She just knew she woke up last Tuesday morning with the fleeting memory of pressing her lips into the pulse point below her assistant's ear and then right onto her mouth.

"Will this isn't a joke! I'm having, like, these _thoughts_ , ok? These thoughts of the last person I ever _thought_ I would have them for, and it's freaking me out a little. What am I supposed to do, Will?"

The handsome man turned his soft, chocolate brown eyes onto his best friend and picked up her hand. Gone were the jokes, the quips, the teasing sarcasm. The only thing left was unconditional support and love.

"Grace, don't stress. If you're having these thoughts then it's possible it's worth pursuing. Just remember you never have to take anything faster than you want, and if you really think you might like this guy then I say why not try it? What do you have to lose?"

Grace's body visibly relaxed and she smiled as she squeezed her best friend's hand.

The truth was, saying she had a lot to lose was an understatement. She could possibly lose _everything_. But, somehow, in that moment, with Will's sweet advice and the heart that did flip-flops in her chest over the idea of approaching Karen with what she had been feeling, she just didn't give a damn.

"Thanks, Will. You always know just what to say."

"Well, speaking of undesirables who we just can't seem to shake, Jack wants us to go down town tonight. New bar. They're doing a special on drinks till 10."

Grace smiled and grabbed her bag off the floor. She was already in a better mood.

"Yeah, ok! I could use a little Tipsy Tuesday, myself," she grinned, laughing at herself.

Will shook his head. "Just change out of that, that thing you're wearing. It's not a fancy place but it is new, so, you know. You obviously have a budding love interest, but I'm still single and I may need you to play Wing-Man tonight."

Grace grinned and headed towards her room to change. Maybe a night out with Will and Jack like the old days would clear any thoughts of Karen right out of her mind. She had the perfect going out dress, too.

When Will and Grace finally made their way into Manhattan's bustling new club called "The Backboard" after waiting in line for an hour, they easily found Jack who was already lighting up the VIP area with two different cocktails, one in each hand. As he saw them he called them over and shoved the bouncer out of the way to let his friends pass into the roped off VIP section. The strobe lights were irritating the redhead's eyes at first, but as soon as she kissed her grinning friend's cheek, a completely different sight caught her attention.

There was an extremely elegant woman sitting in the corner sipping on a martini, and as fate would have it, the beautiful brunette was none other than the very object of Grace's current predicament. She stopped short; Karen hadn't yet noticed her arrival, so the redhead took a moment to let the vision sink into her brain. She was wearing a silver and beaded gown that made her body glitter under the club's chaotic lights, and her perfectly pointed feet were crossed at the ankles to show off a pristine pair of silver heels.

Grace was in awe at the beauty of the woman who sat across the elevated VIP section. She watched as the woman pushed a small piece of hair that had escaped from her elaborate up-do behind her ear and sighed. The woman brought her martini up to her mouth and sipped, then threw the entire glass back to polish off the rest of her drink. As she lowered the glass her dark eyes scanned the room and then locked with the redhead's. She sat a little straighter when she saw her boss staring at her, and then motioned the woman over.

Grace felt her feet move as if they were separate from her mind. She really was enamored by her assistant, and it made her entire body pulse with both fear and delight. When she reached the woman, she boldly leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Hey, Karen," she breathed, "I didn't know you were coming out."

The brunette giggled then wrapped her hand around her friend's wrist and pulled her down beside her onto the swanky velvet couch.

"Oh honey, I've been out for years. Yeah, trust me, if it's got lips and pulse then I'm pretty much up for anything."

The redhead screwed up her eyes. Of course Karen was drunk already. She'd been drinking at work all day and probably hadn't stopped downing booze since she left. Sure had to hand it to her though, her assistant was the most high functioning alcoholic she had ever met, and the damn woman managed to look fucking flawless even when three sheets to the wind. Well, maybe it would make things easier. Karen was brazen when she was wasted or high, and it took a lot of the effort out of getting the brunette to touch her.

"That wasn't what I was going for, and I think you know that."

Karen reached out and ran her hand up Grace's leg and into her long skirt.

"I'll tell you what I do know, and it's that you should never wear a red cocktail dress with a slit that comes up so high it shows your little fur-burger down there."

Grace jumped and pushed Karen's hand away from her crotch as the brunette laughed and laughed.

"Karen!"

"Oh honey come on! I'm just playing with you. Though I'm completely serious about the dress. It's better suited as drapes in my maid's bathroom than it does anything for your skinny body." She reached out and pinched the woman's ribcage for effect.

"Hey! I can't help that I'm thin. And stop making excuses to touch me," she challenged.

 _But really, don't stop touching me,_ the redhead prayed.

 _"Stop making excuses to touch me,"_ Karen imitated Grace in a voice even higher than she thought possible. "Are you kidding me with this crap? You better listen to me, Richard Simmons! You're not my type, and even if you were, there's no chance of us ever working out because I'm fabulous and you walk around with a mop for a head."

Grace stood up and took two steps backwards. She normally digested Karen's insults with ease, but ever since she had admitted that maybe she had a crush on the woman, the way she pushed everyone around her away became harder to deal with. She glanced to the floor and then slowly back at the brunette.

"Ok, fine, you win," she began in a low, hurt tone, "please excuse me, I'm just going to go to the bar and get a drink. Wouldn't want to waste a perfectly ' _inappropriate_ ' cocktail dress."

She walked off and muttered to herself, "especially not on someone who doesn't even care."

Karen watched the redhead go. Damn it. Why did she always have to do that? She sighed and turned back to her empty drink, but locked eyes with her best friend instead. Jack had obviously seen the exchange, and the hurt and disappointment on both the girl's faces. He crossed the floor and sat down next to his friend.

"Hey Karebear, why so blue all of a sudden?"

The brunette breathed in deep and then let the air seep slowly between her lips as she gathered her thoughts.

"I don't know, Jackie. I just seem to like to ruin the moment sometimes. And, and then sometimes I ruin it a little too much when it's not what I even meant to do in the first place. The words just come out," she trailed off as she set her empty glass on the table beside her and lay her hands in her lap.

"I guess it's just, if a ship is never going to sail, I'd rather set fire to it and sink it than risk letting everyone on board know that there's no hope of ever leaving the dock."

"Wow Kare, that's a really interesting but powerful metaphor," he began. Karen immediately tuned him out before he launched into a whirlwind tale of his dream to become a Sea Captain.

Jack talked and talked, and even performed a medium length interpretive dance dedicated to the Titanic, but all the while, Karen just thought of Grace. She didn't like hurting her, and really, it was her fault for flirting with the redhead in the first place, but she couldn't let the other woman know what she was feeling inside at the depths of her soul. Better to come of as a shrew than a hormonally gobsmacked school girl.

Grace just couldn't know the truth.

But still, she needed to at least make nice with the girl; it wasn't _her_ fault that Karen had been a little bit in love with her for, oh, _years_. She stood up and left the VIP area without a word. Time to find her redhead.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed since she last saw _any_ of her friends, but she was already over her spat with Karen. Truthfully, she was only really upset in the first place because just when she always thought maybe the socialite was going to be sweet and sincere, the woman would undoubtedly pop that bubble of momentary bliss with a West Side Story razor. Eh, who was she kidding? Karen could never really like a girl like her.

"Here Grace, have one of these," the voice said. It was low, and close to her ear, and it sent the most delicious shivers down her long spine. She turned towards the voice and was met with the dark eyes of her assistant. She took the drink from the woman's small hand and marveled at the electricity that passed between them as their fingers brushed together.

She could have been a little drunk, but for once she wasn't pushing down the voices inside her head that screamed at her to do something; make a move, kiss the girl, do literally anything that showed she wasn't just some prudish, straight laced Jew from Schenectady.

She marveled at how calm and collected the flashy brunette across from her was. Her own heart was rattling in its cage, and the fist around her drink felt like it was on fire. They made steady eye contact as they clinked their glasses together, but it was Grace who downed her drink in two large gulps. She slammed her highball on the polished wood of the bar and threw her shoulders back. The socialite waited; she could sense the sudden surge of confidence from the redhead and wondered what the woman was planning.

"I think we should check out the dance floor."

Karen raised her right eyebrow in surprise.

"Grace you know I don't like to be sweated on by the hundreds of gross pigs that flock to these sketchy night clubs. I don't want to have to explain to Rosie that I went to jail tonight for sticking a fork in that Fat Hamlet's face over there if he spills his Bud Light all over my one of a kind Ferragamo stilettos."

Grace looked over the shorter woman's shoulder to see a wildly dancing man who was indeed spilling beer as he gyrated across the floor. Maybe it was the tequila, but she really wanted a reason to be close to Karen, so she grabbed the woman's hand and led her to the far side of the packed club, anyway.

"Grace! Let go of my hand, you big tree. I said I didn't want to dance," she demanded, only half as angry as she was pretending to be. She actually was enjoying Grace's bravado, and the fact that the redhead was attempting to take control.

When they got to a less crowded spot on the floor, Grace turned to face Karen and wrapped her arms around the woman's shoulders.

"Come on, just be with me for a minute."

She felt reluctant hands reach up and wrap around her waist.

"Fine. I'll dance with you. But if anyone asks, you're just the escort I hired for the night and when you showed up it was too late for me to send you back for someone else. Got it?"

Grace rolled her eyes and started swaying to the music.

"God, Karen? Will you please just lighten up? Sometimes you really hurt my feelings. I just want to be close to you. Why is that such a problem?"

Karen looked away. Why was it a problem?

 _Maybe it's a problem because while you're drunk and pulling me in to you, all I want so badly is for you lean down and kiss me hard and claim me right in front of everybody. And I was already drunk enough for the both of us, I'm afraid if I stop trying to push you away then you're going to see everything I've tried so hard to hide from you. And that, I just can't have. But I'll be a little nicer. It's not your fault._

"Alright, I'll behave. But let's just get something straight, ok? _You're_ the Billy Bob in this adventure. I'm the Angelina, and that's not up for discussion."

Grace rolled her eyes and smiled. Of course. The woman in her arms just wouldn't be Karen if she didn't say _something_ off color.

An hour later, Grace ran up to Will and kissed him squarely on the cheek.

"I'm going to leave, Will."

"No, Grace, already? Things are just getting started, and I really wanted to spend time with you. I've hardly seen you since we got here; you spent all your time huddled up with Satan on the dance floor."

"Sorry sweetheart, but Karen asked me to come over and uh, see if her carpet matches her new drapes."

Jack rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, "oh I bet that's _exactly_ what she said, too."

Grace eyed Jack suspiciously for a moment. Did he know something she didn't know? He was looking at her with a somewhat caustic expression.

"Uh, ok. Well, I'm going to head out with her now. You two don't wait up."

She leaned in and kissed Will one more time, but as she went to hug Jack he grabbed her arm and pulled her a few steps away.

"Grace I don't presume to know exactly what is going on here, but I saw the way you were dancing with Karen. And now she's taking you back to her house? At midnight? And the rest of us aren't invited? What gives?"

Grace looked back to see Karen staring at her from across the dance floor. The look on the woman's face was haughty but otherwise emotionless.

"I'm sorry, Jack. Karen just thought we could go to work tomorrow together since it's already so late."

Jack crossed his arms as he glanced at his sultry and beautiful best friend across the room.

"Something is going on with you two, and I'm going to find out what. Mhmm. She confided in me! Karen was talking about leaving us all to become a Navy Seal."

Grace rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "Jack, I have a really hard time believing that's what she said."

"Yeah? Oh yeah?! Is that right? Well since you're her _best friend_ all of a sudden then why don't you just enlighten me? Hmm? Why was she talking about ruining moments and sinking ships that were never going to sail?"

Grace paused and chanced a glance toward Karen. The same intense expression was there, but this time the edges of her lips curled down in a slight frown. She wondered briefly what Jack was talking about, and if it had anything to do with her. She would have to investigate later, because the brunette was clearly becoming impatient while she waited for Grace to say her goodbyes.

"Listen here, Hardy Boy, I don't have time for your line of questioning. I've got to go. Karen is waiting. And she doesn't look happy, either."

She turned back into the crowded floor and made her way towards the irritated socialite.

"Grace, what was Jack telling you just now?"

Grace grabbed her jacket from the coat check and wrapped it around her shoulders as she tried to recall the strange conversation.

"I don't know. Something about the Navy and ships and trying not to ruin good moments."

Karen turned on her heel and glared across the room.

"I am going to murder that ungrateful fairy in his sleep tonight," she raged as she took two steps in the man's direction. Grace caught her arm and spun her back around to face her.

"Let's just let go, please? I don't want tonight to be the night that we all find out you've been carrying around a switch blade in your cleavage."

"Oh honey, don't be ridiculous. A switch blade? I prefer a harpoon any day."

Grace stared in horror. Knowing Karen, the woman might be completely serious.

"It's a hell of a lot more fun to use, and an arrow through the heart to drag you back to my lair with really makes a bigger statement, am I right?"

She cracked a half smile and threw her own coat on as well.

"You really scare me sometimes."

Karen grabbed the long fingers of her friend and wrapped them up in her own tiny hand as she led the woman outside.

"Oh my sweet Gracie, you honestly have _no_ idea."

The redhead could only begin to imagine.

The limo pulled up to the Park Avenue Mansion and Grace crawled out, followed by the quiet brunette. They had both been fairly silent on the drive home. Grace could tell that her assistant was far more drunk than she was, which was a nice turn of events. Karen had mainly looked out the window on the ride to her place, and the redhead couldn't discern what the woman was feeling. Karen was very good at hiding her emotions.

As they walked into the house, Karen shed her coat and dropped it onto the floor. Grace was just drunk enough that she followed suit, thinking nothing of leaving their clothes lying around haphazardly in the hallway. She followed the brunette up the familiar path to the room she once shared with her now deceased husband, Stan. The wealthy widow walked towards a bar that sat across from her bed and grabbed a bottle of expensive rum from behind. She pulled two highballs from beneath the bartop and poured a healthy 12 ounces of the amber liquid into both. There was a mischievous, lopsided grin painted over her red lips, and she slinked toward the redhead like a panther. She grabbed the slender woman's hand, bringing her to the edge of the bed.

She was definitely drunk, and she definitely _didn't_ care.

She placed one of the glasses into the redhead's hand and gave it a clink with her own.

"Here's to us, Grace. To all thu 'ships that will never be."

She slurred slightly, and took a big gulp of her rum. Grace had her wits about her a little more than the brunette, so she grabbed the glass from the woman's hand before she could down the entire thing.

"Ooookaaay there, Captain Morgan McWasted Pants, let's not drink ourselves into the hospital. Again."

She set the glass on the bedside table and turned back to see the woman struggling with her dress. She kicked both heels off, and as they went flying, she fell backwards onto the bed.

"Wow, that wasn't what I meant to do," she stammered, her sculpted legs caught in the long, glittery gown.

Karen had taken care of Drunk!Grace many times before, and Grace knew returning the favor was the least she could do. She pulled the struggling woman up to a sitting position and ran a calming hand over her back.

"Karen, I think you may have to let me help you get undressed."

Karen lazily pushed the redhead away from her and resumed the now complicated task of untangling her useless legs from her skirt.

"Oh yeah, _now_ let's help the drunk lady out of her clothes! What do you take me for, a cheap hooker? I always knew you were a muff-diving, LL Bean catalogue toting, Chuck Taylor wearing, Pixie Princess with U-Haul on your god damned speed dial!"

The minute she realized what she said she felt angry with herself. Grace really was just trying to take care of her; there was no reason to be such an asshole. She turned her head to gaze at the redhead and stopped cold. Was it because she was drunk, or was the woman just that much more beautiful in the pale light of the moon that dipped into her window? Her breath hitched in her throat, and she felt the entire Universe stop spinning.

"Gracie, I, I'm really sor-" she began, but the look on the redhead's face caused her to pause in her tracks.

Grace couldn't believe it. That was it! That's what she had said to Jack. The realization slammed into her like a Mack truck skidding down a snowy mountain on Christmas Eve. Karen _liked_ her, and the 'ship' she was talking about was the 'relationship' she presumed they could never have.

Both women jumped on each other without warning to crash their lips together in a raucous passion. Auburn waves melded into mahogany as she pulled the clip from the brunette's hair and slammed her down to the bed, falling on top of her as she pushed.

Grace couldn't believe what she was doing. She was bewildered at how her body responded to the hands that roamed over her back and sides, and down to her ass where the brunette squeezed. She arched her back into the thin frame of the woman straddling her hips. God, she felt so amazing! Her curves and her edges felt so real, this dream felt so real...

"Whoa Karen, wait!"

The redhead jumped off the smaller woman as if her body had suddenly become engulfed in flames.

"What," she began breathlessly as she felt a panic begin to rise from the bottom of her chest and spiral outwards, "what are we doing?"

Karen couldn't help but hide the look of horror on her face. In her wasted state, she had completely lost herself. This most definitely _wasn't_ a drunken delirium. This was real, and she had just fucked everything up.

"Grace, wait! I didn't mean to. Wait, honey! Please, come back," she whimpered, but the last thing she saw was the tail end of a red dress as the woman wearing it ran from the room.

Tonight was the night she really felt like she could die.

She _loathed_ Tipsy Tuesdays.


End file.
